The Dark Lady
by Elizabeth de Britannia
Summary: Herein are the diaries of Bellatrix Lestrange from her first year at Hogwarts until her death. Rated T because I'm paranoid, although violence is certain.
1. Chapter 1

The Dark Lady

Reader:

I found her diaries in a leather trunk in a whole in the ground covered by a stone. I'm not surprised she hid them there, in our place.

I went back there just last week, an hour after I got Andromeda's letter. I went sobbing, colapsed at the base of the tree in which the Dark Lord put his Mark. If only Lucius could see me, I thought. I'm a wreck.

In my anger at my sisters: at Bella for being so devoted to You-Know-Who, to Andromeda for running away, I kicked the tree at it's base, dislodging the rock. There it was, weathered by time on the outside, with our coat of arms on it's curved top.

Why didn't I suspect her? I don't know. She always did say I was rather stupid. Anyway, I won't pretend to. I thought it was a chest of some other Black relative. Pointing my wand at it, I discovered magic wouldn't open it.

With cold fingers I worked the latch, grimacing as dirt and rust came away on my fingers, and would probably dirty my skirt. I'm not really the sort of person to dirty themselves, certainly not over some old chest full of someone else's ghosts. I'll give up, I thought.

But I had nothing better to do, and I wanted to be alone. I didn't want, probably for the first time in my life, Lucius's touch and bad advice. I wished Bella could tell me what to do like she used to. She told me how I should think, act, feel about everything. She'd probably know whether the trunk was worth anything. The clouds were dark and heavy as the latch finally gave for me.

There was no organization to the trunk. It was a pile, at the top of which was my face, which was not as beautiful as it once was, although still very stunning I thought.

I realized after a moment I was being stupid. It was a mirror: an old, warped, mirror with a frame of three entwining serpents made of tarnished silver. Bella's.

I saw the photographs of her and I as children. At the bottom were the diaries themselves.

These were the only things Bella had organized. This made me smile: she was always the organized one, while I was the one to leave things all in a tangle.

It was raining now. I took the chest with me when I disapparated home.

The first of the journals I put on the night table to read when Lucius was sleeping. The chest went in my boudoir, where I put all the other things I didn't want my husband to know about.

Her book looked rather shabby next to my calendar. I supposed time did that to things. That's unfortunate. I remember this book in it's day if I force my brain far enough backwards. It was black leather, with a serpent drawn out on it's cover in silver. Now the snake could hardly be seen, and the leather was so brittle, I thought I'd break it when I opened it.

It sat next to Andromeda's letter, which I'd probably forget about; I'd probably put it off to rot a few more years, another ghost I want nothing to do with.

Maybe I could do that to Andromeda, but never to Bella, and not after reading the journals, which I have been doing over the past week. I'm publishing them here, not because I want you all to see her in a new light, but because I don't know what else to do with them. Who knows? Maybe Lucius and all the others would understand why I buried her, after the Battle of Hogwarts if they read through the inner workings of the Dark Lord's servant, advisor, and lover.

Narcissa Malfoy

(Author's Note: I've had this idea for ages and ages now, but I'm starting it in a different way than I thought I would. Please review and let me know what you think. Sorry, it's a bit short but I'll be posting more soon.

Best wishes,

Elizabeth de Britannia)


	2. Chapter 2

The Dark Lady

5 August, 1962

I got my Hogwarts letter today! It was Andromeda's turn to check the post, so naturally, she saw it first.

"Oh, Bella!" she shrieked, causing Mother to scowl (she had a headache), and Father to look up from his copy of the paper.

"What is it?" Cissy asked, too stupid to understand that it was the letter she and I had been talking about for days.

"You should know perfectly well." I said haughtily, rising from the table and rushing to Andromeda. Snatching the letter from her hand, I rushed back, breaking the seal as I went.

"What is it, Bellatrix?" Father asked, in an infuriatingly bored way.

"My Hogwarts letter." I replied, waving the thick parchment in his face.

He glanced down at it quickly, then put down his paper. I watched him intently, wondering what he would do next.

"So you're a witch after all." He declared harshly after an awkward pause.

"Yes," I confirmed, the picture of solemnity and maturity "I am."

Cissy looked up at me, her eyes as round as the tea saucers. She was smiling.

"Andromeda, Narcissa. Out." Mother commanded in her soft voice, and my sisters hurried out of the kitchen.

"You are growing up, Bellatrix." Mother reflected, looking me up and down.

"You will uphold our family name?" Father asked, taking a sip of the black coffee he was so fond of.

"I will do it, Father."

Mother scoffed. "You will be as worthy of our name as the house-elf."

"Don't be harsh, Druella." Father repremanded her softly, almost lovingly.

Mother was a proud woman. She saw the scolding as a major slight no doubt, and so flounced upstairs, slamming the door behind her.

"Sit, Bellatrix." Father commanded. I did; I wasn't stupid enough to disobey him.

A little bit about Father: He is a hard man. There is no other way to discribe him. His skin is pale, giving his face the appearance of one of the marble statues we saw when visiting the Grandparents. His hair is black and thinning. His eyes are small and black under pencil-thin eyebrows. He is hard in his thinking too. I imagine all the male professors at Hogwarts will resemble him, except Dumbledore, of course.

"You, Bellatrix," He began to lecture. "Are a pure-blood witch. That is a wonderful thing to be. You are of the most noble and ancient House of Black. That is the best thing to be. So, to do our family justice, there are certain things you must not do while at school. Do you understand?"

Father had never looked at me so seriously before. Usually when he looked at me, it was as though he was looking at something far beneath him. This new behavior was scaring me.

"How will I know what to do?" I asked, feeling the urge to cry like a stupid little girl.

"Your mother will teach you." He replied. Then, he left me sitting there with another command to wait.

I waited. I needed to think. I wanted to be alone before Cissy began to pester me about Hogwarts.

Father returned a moment later with this book.

"Write," He commanded, handing over a quill and ink bottle as well "Write down the truth of what you feel so you remember it, but be ready to lie through your teeth. And trust no one until you know their blood status. Mudbloods are the most treacherous kind of wizard, daughter."

So I came up here to do as he told me, even though I think it's rather silly, and even though it's likely that I will tell Cissy everything. I know Cissy's blood is pure after all, because she's my sister, so what's the point in hiding things from her? Besides, she's too much of an idiot to use information against me. I trust her.

6 August, 1962

It's hot today, so we didn't play in the garden. Cissy doesn't like to get sweaty, and Andromeda doesn't like the bugs that flock around the roses on these awful days.

We passed the morning doing needlework with Mother. I hate needlework! I'm no good at it! What's the point in learning to do something in which you'll never be the best? Andromeda and Cissy are naturals at it, so I endured the little beads of blood that formed on my fingertips every time I pricked myself for their sakes.

But there was only so much of poking myself I could take, so after lunch I refused to sew another second.

Then, Cissy got the idea that we should go into the attic. "No one ever goes there." She reasoned, "and I saw Bernie drag up Mother's old dresses."

It was true. Bernie, the house-elf had stowed Mother's ball gowns up in the dingy attic.

In the attic, which was even hotter than the garden, we found an old crystal ball. I don't know why it was there. Anyway, we brought it down and spent the afternoon playing fortune-tellers.

Here is a list of some of the other interesting things we found: a shrunken house-elf head; an old golden Snitch; something that looked suspiciously like a human finger, preserved in a jar; and a foul-mouthed portrait of an old man in a red turban.

7 August, 1962

I look at my Hogwarts letter often. It looks so official! My sisters must be lying. They've been telling me it's a fake made by Mother to try and get me to act more ladylike and to smile more. I don't know who started this cruel joke. Cissy has a reason: to make me stay. But Cissy's only eight. What does she know?

Father and Mr. Malfoy spend a lot of time locked away in Father's study. I wonder what they do in there. I hope they aren't arranging a marriage for one of us and Mr. Malfoy's son. I've seen Lucius, and he's scrawny, whiny, and stupid. Granted, I don't know Lucius, but with a father who spoils as much as Mr. Malfoy, how could he not be all of those things?

Andromeda complained of a headache, and shivered through dinner. I hope she's not sick! Cissy and I are going to go pick her some flowers and bring them to her. She is resting now.

We're going to the seaside soon to see the Grandparents. I'm not looking forward to it. It promises to be extremely dull, and the ocean is always too cold for swimming.

18 August, 1962

We left to see the Grandparents on the ninth.

Andromeda complained about going because she still felt sick. I complained because the Grandparents hate me, and are very open about that fact. But it doesn't matter. I hate them too. So does Father. He says they're weak-minded, pro-Mudblood fools.

I'd agree but to be perfectly honest, I'm not entirely sure what a Mudblood is. Yes, I understand they're Muggleborns, but I don't understand how they're different from us. Maybe they just aren't as rich and Father hates them for that reason alone.

The Grandparents definitely aren't as rich as us. They live in a big half-broken down house a little way from a village, perched dangerously close to the edge of a cliff. The cliff towers over the sea, and it's usually cold and bleak on top of it.

We didn't do much today, because it rained. It's always scary here when it rains. There are bits of land sticking out from the bottom of the cliff, and I can't help but imagine that they are fingers from a giant's hand that could close on us at any moment and crush us. And when the lightning hits them...

Anyway, if it's nice tomorrow, and if we can escape, I think we should go down onto the Fingers. I told Cissy and Andromeda this just a moment ago. Cissy seems for it, but I think Andromeda is worrying again. Oh, well. Maybe I'll just go with Cissy and hope Andromeda doesn't rat us out.

I've been waiting for Cissy to be old enough to make the climb, and I think it's finally time. I can't wait!

19 August, 1962

We should never have done that. Never, ever, ever! Now Cissy isn't speaking to me, and I don't blame her. It was by far the worst idea I've ever had.

Ciisy and I thought the best way to be allowed to go was to disappear. We got out of bed early, but when we shook Andromeda awake, she muttered that we could go without her.

"Why are you being a coward?" I asked. "We've been planning to do this forever."

"You and Narcissa have. I want to go back to sleep." She rolled over and did just that.

I stole some food. I wasn't sure how long this would take, and Cissy's nearly impossible to work with on an empty stomach. I also stole a sharp knife. This would be useful for defending ourselves if we met anyone who might want to hurt us. I would have stolen a wand, but I have no idea how to use one. (Oh I'll learn that soon! So soon! I am made so much happier by that thought.)

The beginning part of the climb was hard. The rock was almost smooth, so we very nearly slid down onto a narrow ledge about halfway down.

The bottom part was easier. The sea had made natural handholds and footholds for us, and even though we didn't have much experience in climbing, we were able to make our way, cutting ourselves on sharp rocks as we went, down.

"Is that it?" Cissy asked when we reached the bottom. "It's very small, isn't it?"

"Yes," I answered. "But it is a good deal warmer."

We leaned our battered and bloody bodies against the stone wall. I turned away, looking down at the now close sea.

"Bella! I see a cave." She was excited.

"I don't see a cave."

"Look that way." She indicated the spot, where we had been leaning and sure enough, there it was.

It was a narrow opening, and Cissy and I rushed in.

The wind had been whipping our long hair around us when we were outside, but in the cave, our hair was still. The temperature dropped, too.

"How big do you think it is?" Cissy asked. She kept close to me.

"I couldn't say." I replied.

I shouted to see if it echoed. It did.

We explored a bit by the light of the opening. We grew braver as the minutes went by, moving farther away from one another until Cissy discovered the black lake by falling in. I fished her out, soaking, but amused. Then I began to walk around the water.

As we continued the expedition, we saw a shadow obscuring our light and with a rumbling of rock, the opening closed. Cissy and I screamed. We were plunged into darkness.

"Bella?" She asked somewhere to my right. She was scared.

"Where are you?" I responded.

"Where are you?"

"Just here."

I moved blindly in the dark, one hand outstretched to find her. In my other hand I held the knife. I wasn't sure if we were alone now.

She found me. I felt her collide with me, and we both screamed.

"Let's stay together." I advised, taking her hand.

"Oh Bella, we'll be locked in here forever. And you don't know any magic to get us out."

"We won't be..."

But I couldn't reassure her without lying, and I wasn't prepared to do that.

I don't know how long we saw at the edge of the Black Lake. Staying together was the only way we stayed sane. I know that the crushing darkness would have got to me if I were alone. We chattered about nothing, made up silly stories, sang dumb songs. Anything to pass the dull hours until death or release.

The rumbling of rock and the sound of entering footsteps anounced our fate.

The footsteps were wrong though, slow and shuffling.

Then there was a light and I got a good look at the newcomers. Corpses. They had to be corpses. They were pale, and they walked with their arms outstretched for balance and one was dragging it's leg behind it. The injured limb seemed to be rotting away.

The man behind them was hooded, and holding a lit wand. The only impression of him I got were red eyes and a high, cold, voice as he exclaimed: "Avada Kedavra!"

Cissy and I ducked to avoid the green light, but the corpses were on us then. The most recognizable of the three turned it's bloated head all the way around, looking at us through maggot-eaten eyes. It opened it's grotesque hole of a mouth and made a gurgling sound.

"This is the end." I whispered, wrapping my arms around my sister.

The red-eyed man turned to us, flicked his wand, and the dead man shambled forward. The other two were at it's heels.

I wouldn't go down without a fight. Grabbing Cissy's wrist and pulling her behind me, I rushed at the hooded man.

"Protego." He said calmly as I came, and I was thrown bckwards.

"Lumos." Now his wand was lit again, and he was looking at us closely.

"And what," He asked "are you doing here?"

"Don't kill us." I commanded, because Father said begging would get a man nowhere. "I'm Bellatrix Black, a Pureblood. Any wizard in their right mind would spare a Pure-blood."

With another flick of his wand, the corpses stood still. The hooded man regarded us through his red eyes which I now noticed didn't look so red anymore.

"How did you get in here?" He asked.

We stayed silent.

"I will be merciful if you tell me."

"It was open." I whispered, my courage leaving me. "It had to be."

"You are sure you did not open it?" He asked, stepping closer to me, ignoring Cissy entirely.

"I'm sure. I don't even know how. I don't know how to do any magic yet."

Suddenly, one pale arm was offered to me, and the other to Cissy. I scratched at it, screamed, and tried to dislodge the wand from the man's handddI wasn't going to let him take me away either.

He dragged us from the cave and then disapparated with us still holding onto him, to the top of the cliff.

It was nearly evening now, but even with the sun low in the sky, Cissy and I still had to shield our eyes.

Father was walking toward us. I'd know him anywhere, because he is so precise, even when just taking a walk.

Cissy and I ran to him.

"What—Bellatrix? Narcissa? Weren't you two with your mother?"

"Oh no, "father." Cissy was sobbing. "It was Bella's idea to climb down onto the Fingers, so we did, and there was an evil man who had corpses, and so Bella protected me. He had dead people, Father!" He picked her up, and regarded me cooly.

"What is she speaking of, Bellatrix?"

"We went exploring." I said simply. I was scared to say any more. But once again, the hooded man rescued me.

He put down his hood, revealing a face more like a snake's than a man's.

"My Lord?" Father asked, confused.

"Your daughters found their way through some powerful magic. I nearly killed them with Inferi." He explained so coldly, as though it was nothing that he nearly killed us.

Father dropped Cissy onto her feet and knelt before the man, his Lord. "Thank you, My Lord. I am ever in your debt."

"You are." The man agreed. "Your daughter is in denialt she broke through my barriers." He pointed at me, making me shrink back. I realized I was still holding the knife, and dropped it.

"My Lord, why would she want to..."

"That, Cygnus, is what I'd like to ask her. Allow me to do so in private."

"Yes, of course." And he and Cissy left us.

"Do you know who I am?" He asked softly, running his wand through his pale fingers.

"No." I answered, regarding my feet and the knife near them.

"I am Lord Voldemort. Do you know how many children have tried to kill me?"

"No."

"You are the first."

"Please, don't tell my father," I burst out. "Because then he'll tell the Ministry, and I'll be sent to Azkaban. I've never killed anyone before. I'm too young for wizard prison and dementors."

This made Lord Voldemort laugh. "I am sure many at the Ministry would be glad if you'd succeeded."

Then he began to walk away. I couldn't let him leave. I still had to ask him something.

"How do you do it?" I asked.

He stopped, turning around again.

"How do you have enough magic to fill a dead man and make him keep walking? Could you teach me?"

"One day, Bellatrix Black, I may teach you."

Then he did leave, and I went into the house to face the wrath I knew would come from my mother.


	3. Chapter 3

The Dark Lady

25 August, 1962

We left quietly soon after the incident on the Fingers. We left by Portkey. I for one, was glad to see the backs of the Grandparents. I could tell that Father agreed, because he smiled as we began to spin, our fingers glued to the pot we were using to travel.

Over the past few days, I've become an accomplished shadow. Neither of my sisters are speaking to me: Cissy because I took her on an adventure; Andromeda because she doesn't seem to know how to feel at my meeting with Voldemort. She's heard the old rumors that Father and Mr. Malfoy are so fond of repeating: that Voldemort used to be someone called Tom Riddle and that he went to school with our father. Father and Mr. Malfoy say that Tom once split his soul and now can't be killed. Andromeda isn't pleased with me for bringing Cissy on my little adventure. I'm not pleased with myself.

Today we went to Diagon Alley to withdraw gold from our vault at Gringots and get my Hogwarts things.

"I still can't believe you're going." Mother muttered as she brushed and braided my hair. "You've only mis-magicked three times. I was sure you'd be a Squib."

Mis-magicked. I never could make myself do it on a large scale. Sure, I had mis-magicked a few times, violent outbursts of power that left something ruined, bruken or otherwise changed. I had done it several more times than my parents knew. It happened most often when I was alone, and alone, I had tried to control my powers.

I said nothing as Mother continued her mutterings and my sisters had their hair arranged. I said nothing as Father took down the little pot of Floo Powder and stepped into the green flames.

We went one-by-one, the last being Mother. She put the Floo Powder in her beaded purse and grabbing Cissy's hand, led us back behind the Leaky Cauldron to the brick wall, where Father met us.

Diagon Alley hadn't changed much from my last visit, but our vault at Gringots had. It was full, yes, but not as full as it was. Father and Mother tried to block the entrance so that we wouldn't see, but I peered around them, so as to see the beautiful gold.

Mother and Cissy went to get my books. Andromeda and Father went to get my cauldron, scales and potion things. Tossing several Galleons to me, Father sent me alone to Olivander.

I'd been in the odd shop just once. Mother's wand had been broken when the previous house-elf threw it into the fire. I never saw the elf again after the incident.

The shop was just as I remembered: cluttered, dim and rather eerie. I sat in the spindly chair, folding my fingers in my lap as I'd seen Father do.

"Your first wand?" A soft voice asked. I didn't flinch. I'd been expecting this voice to come from the shadows.

"Yes." I answered, raising my head in the haughty fashion Mother was so accomplished at.

Olivander snapped his fingers, and the silver tape measure began it's rapid-fire measuring: from fingertip to elbow, wrist to shoulder, shoulder to ankle, Elbow to knee and so on.

It took more wands than I thought, but we finally found the right one.

"The wand chooses the wizard." Olivander repeated, as he had said at the beginning of my search.

"Thank you." I said politely as I handed over the Galleons.

Cissy was having an icecream when I returned, Andromeda was looking through one of my new books.

"Your wand?" Father asked.

I handed over the thin box I'd been clutching. He turned up his nose at the spiral detailing on it. I suppose it was too fancy for his tastes.

"It's made of yew and unicorn hair." I supplied, disliking his distainful expression toward my wand.

"At least it's not elder." Mother sniffed. "Elder wands are ill luck. Everyone knows that."

"Don't be superstitious, Druella." Father said, returning my wand.

My robe fitting was uneventful, and soon after, we went home.

Now I'm exhausted, but I don't think I'll be able to sleep. I'm looking over and I see my spellbooks stacked neatly on the dark wooden writing desk I never use. I'm worrying, wondering, and scheming.

26 August, 1962

Tomorrow, the pure-blood families are giving a ball in honor of the approaching Hogwarts term. Eroan Rosier and Rodolphus Lestrange will be going for their first year like me, and Rodolphus's brother is going for second year. I'm sure there are more, but I have met the Lestrange boys, and Eroan Rosier is a cousin on Mother's side of the family.

Oh Mother! She's full of frantic energy, rushing here and there, altering one of her dresses for me, looking for old jewels, complaining about my ragged nails.

"I only bite them when I'm stressed." I said, interrupting Mother's lecturing.

"A daughter of the most noble and ancient House of Black must not bite her nails at all, Bellatrix."

Mother never made a fuss over my lack of a figure or scraped knees or ragged nails before. I think she and Father are worried I will look like the Squib they think I am.

I practiced controling myself this afternoon. I could only sneak away for a few moments, and it's been a long time since I practiced, but I was able to make a flower open then close, and make a tree branch move several inches. Now I'm tired, and I don't want to think very much.

Cissy and Andromeda are being fussed over as well, but not nearly so much as me. Cissy was scolded for the tangles in her hair, and Andromeda for her clumsiness. This makes me feel somewhat better, but not by much.

28 August, 1962

The ball was horrible! There were too many people, too much butterbeer, wine, and firewhiskey, and the whole room smelled like cigarettes. I despise the smell of cigarettes.

My dress was dark green satin with silver lace at the ends of the sleeves and at the neckline. The shoes were shiny black leather, and a bit too small. I wore a small gold B for a necklace with three pearls hanging from it. Mother braided my hair into a long black rope which was so long I could have sat on it.

The party was held in the ballroom of Malfoy Manor. Everyone was dressed up, and everyone was laughing while the band played.

I spent most of the long hours standing half-hidden behind one of the decorative columns.

"Would you like to dance?" Someone asked after a while. I whirled around to face Rodolphus Lestrange.

"Don't startle me." I commanded.

"Sorry." He apologized, his face going as red as Mother's party dress "Would you like to dance?" He repeated.

"I suppose."

"I only know how to waltz though."

So he led me out onto the floor and twirled me in an ungainly dance. Rodolphus didn't speak during the dance, just muttered the steps: "One, two, three. One, two, three..." He tripped over my feet, but I found it rather touching that he was trying. I did my very best to be graceful, but it didn't help that he was such an awful dancer, and he was tripping over my feet and his own.

"I hate dancing." He said when it was over.

"I think it's fun. You're an awful dancer, you know."

"Yes, well... I only learned to make my parents happy."

"And what would you rather be doing?" I asked curiously but haughtily.

"I'd rather be playing Quidditch. I want to play Beater when we get to Hogwarts."

"Oh," I said, "Well, good luck."

And I turned away from him.

Two people stood near my column when I walked away from Rodolphus.

"What interest would he have in Bellatrix?" Mr. Malfoy was asking my father.

"I have no idea. Tom hasn't been seen in years. He's changed, Abraxas."

"Changed how?"

"He looks more like the snakes he was so fond of. And he seems to exude power."

"And what do we have to do with it, Cygnus?"

"It could be an opportunity, my friend. We've known Tom long before this Voldemort thing."

"And you think he'd give us favors?"

"I couldn't tell. This is Tom we're talking about. He can't be bribed."

"From what you tell me Cygnus, I think he is rising."

"I agree. When he does, I will follow him."

"As will I." Agreed Mr. Malfoy as he turned away.

Voldemort. They were discussing Lord Voldemort. So the rumors, or at least part of them were true.

At that moment, Father spotted me. For a fraction of a second, an expression of rage crossed his face, but he forced it into a cool smile and took a swig of firewhiskey.

"Ah, daughter," He said, "I was just looking for you. Dance."

Father didn't give me a chance to refuse. He took me by the hand onto the dance floor where another minuet was just beginning.

Father was a much better dancer than Rodolphus. As he twirled me around in the dance, I wondered if he too was thinking about Voldemort. I knew I was. I was wondering if he would teach me marvelous things if I joined him.

Father and I danced three minuets. He drank a glass of firewhiskey between each one, and by the end he was smiling more warmly than I'd ever seen him.

31 August, 1962

Mother and Father are at another party, so my sisters and I are left with Uncle Alphard. Uncle Alphard is Father's younger brother, but it's hard to believe. He's nothing like Father. He's always amused while Father's always disapproving.

Usually, I have so much fun when Uncle Alphard comes to stay, but it just wasn't the same with Cissy angry with me.

After dinner, Cissy and Andromeda went upstairs to play dolls, and I went back to my book. I'd started reading Fantastic Beasts and where to find Them just to fill the time. It wasn't bad, really.

"I've never known you to be such a reader." Uncle Alphard observed.

"Well," I replied, turning a page, "things change."

"What's wrong, Trixie?" He asked, sitting next to me.

"Nothing's wrong. And don't call me Trixie. I'm not five anymore." I was cross with him. To be fair, I was cross with everyone these days because of my nervousness for school and my musings about Voldemort and worries for Cissy.

Uncle Alphard left me alone after that. After a bit, he was asleep on the sofa, a glass of wine in his hand. I set the glass on the table, and Bernie the house-elf cleaned up the spilled drink.

Now I'm in my bedroom, where I should be trying to sleep. But I know it's impossible, so I'm writing.

Someone is tapping at my door. I should let them in. Maybe it's Alphard, wanting an apology. Or Andromeda, wanting to shout at me...

Late in the Night

It was cissy. She was in her nightdress, but her hair was still up in the elaborate style Mother had it in.

"Can you take this down?" She asked, gesturing at her hair.

Without a word, I pointed at the chair in front of my dressing table. She sat and I freed her hair.

"Sorry I was mad at you." She said.

"Did Andromeda tell you to say that?" I asked, looking at her in the mirror.

"No. She's sleeping." Cissy replied.

"It wasn't my fault." I burst out earnestly. I hadn't meant to say anything, but once it was out, I decided it was better that I had. "I didn't know that dark wizard would come into that cave."

"He scared me."

"He scared me a little bit too."

Then, Cissy began to cry. She looked like she did when she was three: small and innocent. I couldn't help but remember a time when she actually was three and our parents were fighting. Andromeda had been hiding, but there'd been no good hiding spots "for the two of us, and I couldn't leave her. I wanted to pick her up and leave the house with her. Run away and go live with Uncle Alphard or Uncle Orion.

"Don't do that." I commanded. "I have an idea."

I went, with her at my heels into her room from which we took some of her blankets. We did the same to mine and I persuaded her to go out into the night. While she set out the blankets, I went back inside and fetched my astronomy telescope.

We spent a while looking up at the night sky she thought was so pretty through the telescope. We examined stars we didn't know the names of and made up stories about them until Cissy fell asleep.

So I went back in and got my book. Here I sit.

1 September, 1962

Mother waited until dawn to shout at us for sleeping in the yard. Then I was forced to wash my "atrocious hair."

"No daughter of mine will go to school with leaves in her hair and dirt on her face." She declared, commanding Bernie to draw up a bath.

Cissy and I scrubbed ourselves pink. Then she went off to wake Andromeda, and I went to have my hair braided.

I wore a grey dress trimmed in gold thread. My hair braided back, and Mother insisted on using some makeup to darken my lips.

Father didn't know how to drive a Muggle car. Therefore, he acquired us a driver. The Muggle man was small and nervous, and you could tell by the visible slashes of his wrist, Father had tortured him to do our will.

"Why should I make Muggle transport my primary way to travel?" Father would scoff whenever Mother suggested he learn to drive.

We arrived at King's cross with little time to spare. Father sent the Muggle on his way and put my trunk on a cart. We followed as he led us to the ticket barrier and two by two ran through.

There it was. Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Students were running here and there; cats were meowing; owls were hooting in protest to being put into luggage racks. The whole scene was dominated by the large, red Hogwarts Express.

Father put my trunk in the luggage rack and came down to say good-bye.

"Do us justice, daughter." He said. "Hide your weak, little girl's emotions behind coldness. Don't associate with Muggle-borns. they are beneath you."

"Yes Father." I answered.

"Don't bite your nails." Mother advised. "Don't make a fool of yourself."

I hugged Andromeda. She never used to be so quiet, and then last summer, she met those Muggle girls. She saw something there that changed her. It made her pull away from Cissy and I. But she seemed sad to see me go.

The train was beginning to move. I should have climbed aboard, but I couldn't, as Cissy had now thrown herself at me.

"Bella don't leave!" She commanded. "We were only just friends again, and you have to help me with my letters and play dress-up with me and help me make Andromeda irritated. I only just forgived you!"

I sensed one of her legendary tantrums, so I did my best to appease her. "It's only til Christmas," I reassured. "And you can practice your letters by writing me. Andromeda can play dolls and dress-up with you, and you don't need me to make mischief."

"But you're going to leave for ages and ages."

"But then after ages and ages I'll be home. Please Cissy. Let go. I'm going to miss the train!"

"I love you." She said as Father pulled her off.

"I love you too." I replied.

Then I jumped into my compartment and watched my family get smaller and smaller through the window. I don't think I'll ever forget them like that: Father tall and proud, smiling slightly at me; Mother looking pained, holding her head; Andromeda smiling and waving; Cissy, her golden hair just visible as she attempted to chase the train.

I was made aware of the other occupant of my compartment when she cleared her throat: "Hem hem"

She looked like an ugly doll. Her limp curls hung in two ponytails, each held by a pink ribbon tied in a bow. Her eyes bulged slightly from her head. The prettiest part of her was her dress, which was palest pink and covered in frills. The skirt was very poofy, and I couldn't help thinking that Cissy would have loved to play Princess in it.

"I'm Dolores Umbridge. I'm a first-year. It's so nice to meet you." Her voice was high, her tone sickly sweet.

"I'm Bellatrix." I introduced coldly.

"Oh! That's a unique name. Are you a first-year?"

"Yes." I replied, then turned to the window and ignored the Ugly Doll.

The countryside flew past in a lovely collage of greens and browns. The day was cool and sunny, and the sky was the bluest I'd ever seen it. I listened to the sounds of the train and looked out the window for hours. Dolores tried to make conversation, but after a while stopped. She too, sat in silence.

When afternoon was at it's height, our door was flung open. Dolores let out a small scream as a Spanish-looking boy hurried in, closing the door behind him. He collapsed in the seat beside me.

He didn't introduce himself, just said: "Has the trolley come through? I'm starving."

"Oh it did." Dolores answered, blushing. "We didn't get anything though. I'm Dolores Umbridge. What's your name?"

"Oh. Too bad for that. I'm Danior, but you'll be calling me Bishop. That's the last name. Are you two first years?"

"Yes." she said, puffing out her chest proudly.

"What's your name?" Bishop addressed me.

"Oh that's Bellatrix." Dolores answered brightly.

"I can speak for myself." I said, annoyed.

Bishop smiled. He really wasn't bad-looking.

"Why were you running?" Dolores asked.

"Oh, that!" He grimaced. "I was sitting with my sister, but then she and her boyfriend met up and I wasn't staying for that. So I went to my brother. My brother's best friend isn't the nicest of boys."

I laughed. "What did he do?"

"He tried to give me my first hexing. He called it the Hogwarts welcome."

"Coward." I teased.

"I'd rather be a coward than be turned into a toad."

I don't know why it was so easy to joke with Bishop. His smile just made me want to smile and he had really nice eyes.

The rest of the journey was spent talking to him and ignoring Dolores. When the shadows grew long Bishop left and Dolores and I changed into our school robes. I let down my hair, making her exclaim at it's length and beauty.

We met Bishop in the corridor, and together, made our way onto the dark platform.

"Firs' years! Over here, firs years!" The lamp bobbed toward us, held in the hand of a giant. Dolores gasped, grabbing onto my sleeve. I nearly shook her off, but he was rather terrifying. He was huge and wild. He must have been a giant. I'd never seen one, but figured they looked like him.

"Righ, that everyone?" He asked. A substantial group of us were gathered around him.

He led us to a fleet of small boats and we climbed in. Dolores was practically in Bishop's lap. This made me laugh.

"Scared of the giant man?" I asked.

"Don't be like that!" She said, real indignance in her voice. "You were scared too."

"She wasn't as scared as you." Bishop defended.

"Thank you, Bishop. At least someone's not a liar."

He gave a half-smile and said no more.

The group of us were herded into a small antechamber and told by the very stern Professor McGonagall to make ourselves presentable. I took a comb and started on my hair. It wasn't tangled, but the motion of combing was calming.

"Form a line." McGonagall ordered. We did, and the ragged line moved into the Great Hall.

The Great Hall was beautiful: thousands of floating candlesshining off everything; an enchanted ceiling showing the night sky; and the sheer size of the thing made it grand.

A stool was set before us, on top of which rested an old hat. After a moment, a rip near the rim opened and it sang. Imagine that! A singing hat. I can't remember the song word for word, or else I'd write it down.

"When I call your name," McGonagall directed, "you will put the hat on your head and sit on the stool."

Consulting the list she announced: "Abbottson, Edward."

The boy stepped forward shakily. "Gryffindor!" The hat proclaimed.

It wasn't long until Professor McGonagall was announcing "Bishop, Danior." After a moment, the hat shouted: "SLYTHERIN!"

Next from Professor McGonagall, came: "Black, Bellatrix."

I stepped forward, trying not to show my nerves. I sat on the stool and put the hat on my head.

"Another Black? I've been sorting Blacks for centuries... Hmm, difficult. You are brave but ambitious. You crave knowledge but have the capacity of loyalty. You are very determined. I think it better be SLYTHERIN!"

The Slytherin table clapped loudly as I sat beside Bishop, consumed with the feeling that I'd done something right. I had followed the family tradition of being in Slytherin. I was so pleased with myself, I barely noticed when Dolores Umbridge and Rodolphus Lestrange joined our table.

Author's Note: (I do not own Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Narcissa, or anything else Harry Potter related. I do, however, own Danior Bishop and Bernie the house-elf.

Miss Singing in the Rain: I applaud you for finding my mistake on the topic of Bellatrix's letter. It was quite an obvious mistake if I look back, and I am laughing at myself for not seeing it during editing.

Best wishes,

Elizabeth de Britannia)


	4. Chapter 4

The Dark Lady 15 September, 1962

So much for doing something right. I've already made an enemy of Mary Schultz. It shouldn't matter, because she's very stupid. I don't think she's going to be very talented either. She holds her wand like it's a club she's about to beat someone to death with.

Mary Schultz would probably love to beat someone to death. She's very tall, with wiry blonde curls and dull blue eyes. Her face is red and pimply. I noticed yesterday that she has thick fingers to go with her clumsy hands.

"Do you think she's Muggle-born?" I asked Bishop this afternoon at break.

"Definitely." He agreed quickly. "I know a Muggle-born when I see one."

With a jolt, I realized I hadn't asked him his blood status.

"Pure-blood of course." He answered, smiling up at me.

"You should try and make her happy." Dolores advised.

"Why?" I asked. "I never did anything to her."

"I heard she tried to kill an owl that nipped her finger."

I grimaced. On the first day of school, a brown barn owl landed next to her to deliver a letter to the boy sitting there. When she saw it fly past her head, she reached up and tried to twist it's head off. Professor McGonagall saw her, however, and forced her to release her grip.

"I'm not an owl." I told Dolores, "And I'm fairly certain that if she tried to kill me, she'd be packing her things."

"But Bishop told me that his brother tried to kill someone1 and he's still here." Dolores argued.

"Bishop is an idiot, and so are you for believing him."

17 September, 1962

That filth! I walked into the dormitory and found Dolores sitting with my open diary across her lap. A quill was in her hand, held frozen over the page.

"Did you read anything?" I exploded.

"Yes." She replied, blushing almost as much as Rodolphus did at the ball. "I saw you writing in it, and I was curious what you were writing. I think you and your sister are very charming together. I'm sorry. I'll never tell."

"Never do that again." I commanded. I slapped her hard across the face like I'd seen Mother do to Andromeda when she broke Grandmother's favorite vase.

Dolores cried out shrilly, then cowered into a corner. The quill dripped ink onto the floor.

"I swear I'll never tell anyone about what I saw there." She whined.

"Be quiet." I commanded, imitating the tone Father used with me when he was displeased.

Then I stormed out into the common room to write this. Bishop sits beside me, doing the History of Magic essay that is due tomorrow. I don't think, or at least I hope, he will not act so awfully as Dolores and read what I'm scribbling here.

I was hoping Bishop and I could avoid Dolores, and in doing so, make her go away. This seems impossible, because she has read my diary. She knows about Voldemort. Merlin's beard! I didn't think of it! She KNOWS about Voldemort, about Father's conversation with Mr. Malfoy, about my family's fear that I am a Squib... I must write Father and ask him what I should do.

20 September, 1962

Father wrote back. He wrote back, and He's not criticizing me as I thought he would. I've pasted the letter here, as it is the first one I have received since arriving at school.

Dear Bellatrix,

It is unfortunate that your privacy was breached.

This little girl sounds like a piece of filth if there ever was one. This is what Mudbloods do, daughter. They wish to take advantage of the minority, the superior: The Pure-bloods. I often find Mudbloods spineless pieces of work. Use this to your advantage.

You cannot let her get away. Seduce her. Do you know what that means? No, of course you don't. The traditional meaning of the word is to lure someone away from proper conduct or principles. You, daughter, will lure this girl, seduce her away from her urge to tell someone of what she has read. You will do so with sweetness, even if after a day of it you wish to kill yourself. You will do so with friendship, even though you will hate every minute. You will do so quickly. I will help you daughter, as I am sure you have written of the events of the cave. (No one must know about that. Always remember)

Also, you have spoken very highly of this "Bishop" of whom I am displeased. You are not to develop affections for anyone. You are there to learn.

Write your mother on the topic of your sister, Narcissa. The spoiled brat has given us nothing but grief, and Druella has an irrational theory that you are the only one who can control her. Set her fears at ease. DO NOT TARNISH OUR NOBLE NAME, Your Father, Cygnus Black III

I will do just that. I will "seduce" Dolores. She will not tell anyone about what she read. They won't even know that I keep a diary, not unless I tell them. Not even Bishop. And they will never, ever, know about Lord Voldemort.

21 September, 1962

"Good Morning, Dolores." I said when she woke me up, without my usual haughtiness.

"Good morning." She replied happily, genuine sweetness in her voice.

We went up to the great hall together after meeting Bishop in the common room. Mary Schultz tried to trip Dolores on the staircase. I defended her, when yesterday I would have laughed.

After a morning of simpering chatter she said: "Oh, Bellatrix! You're being so nice. Are we friends now?"

"Of course." I said, forcing a smile.

"You're not acting like yourself, Bellatrix." Bishop observed quietly in Charms.

I decided to tell him: "She will betray us if I don't keep her quiet."

"When will she do that?"

"When it suits her." I answered and refused to say anything else. In Transfiguration, I was able to turn my match-stick into a silver needle. Bishop nearly succeeded, but his still had splinters. Professor McGonagall awarded a grudging five points to Slytherin.

In Potions, Mary Schultz concocted a tar-like substance that smelled like rancid meat. This earned her dirty looks from Bishop, Dolores and I, and titters of disapproval from professor Slughorn.

Oh goodness, she's asking if I'll help her do her Transfiguration homework. This could take hours! She's so dull when it comes to that subject.

28 September, 1962

Bishop and I were having a nice, rather boring walk around the lake. It's getting colder, so we wore our cloaks. They blew behind us in the strong wind.

"So you know Rodolphus Lestrange?" Bishop asked after a bit.

"Yes." I answered. "Why?"

"Because he's going to some meeting my brother is organizing. Ellodie told me."

"Ellodie? Who's that?"

"My sister. You never did meet my siblings, did you?"

"No. Aren't they in Slytherin?"

"No, my brother's in Ravenclaw and my sister's in Hufflepuff."

I laughed rather cruelly. "Hufflepuff?"

"Yes. She's not like us. Robert should have been in Slytherin; he acts like he is at least. Ellodie, she's a sot, or so my mother says."

"What's a sot?"

"No idea, but it sounds mean."

When we went back into the castle, we were laughing, shivering, and seeking out the fire in the Slytherin common room. We'd return to Dolores, who hates the cold, and sober up.

Bishop left me on the fourth floor to talk to a second year boy he knew and I continued down to the dungeons.

I walked past a broom closet from which I heard a girl screaming and banging.

"Help me! I'm locked in!"

"Surely you can get out." I scoffed. "And why would they lock you up in the first place?"

"Because I told them they were going to die. Please, let me out. You're doomed if you don't. Please, I've been in here for hours and hours."

"Isn't there a spell to get you out?" I sneered through the door.

"Yes I tried that. I'm only in my first year you know. Oh, I'm doomed!"

"What is the spell?" I asked curiously.

"Alohamora."

"Alohamora!" I exclaimed at the door. The lock jiggled feebly, but other than that, gave no indication of turning.

"again. Please, again!"

"Alohamora!" This time the lock turned, and a girl with huge glasses wrenched the door open and embraced me.

"Oh I've been in there for so long. I was taking a walk at midnight last night, to scry by moonlight, and these boys caught me, and they locked me in and said my predictions were worth nothing and oh..."

"You really predict things from the future?" I asked.

"Yes. My great-great-grandmother was Cassandra Trelawney, a renowned Seer. Surely you've heard of her?"

"No, I haven't. Sorry."

When I returned to Bishop, we had a good laugh about the great-great-granddaughter of Cassandra Trelawney.

When we'd calmed down enough to speak, Dolores said: "I've heard of her, actually. My father told me she was a fraud. My mother was reading Wizarding history, and came across the name."

"And they really locked her in a broom cupboard for scrying by moonlight?" Bishop asked, suppressing more laughter.

"Yes." I answered, and we erupted into laughter once more.

Author's note: (Sorry it's short, and late, and there weren't any dramatic Voldemort scenes or pure-blood high society, or anything else I've had in the last chapters. Anyhow, enjoy, and if you live in America, happy early Thanksgiving! If you live abroad, I highly encourage you to celebrate just because you can, or make up a holiday. All the merrymaking should not be restricted to the USA.

Sincerely, Elizabeth de Britannia)


	5. Chapter 5

The Dark Lady

29 September, 1962

Today Cissy wrote me! At the sight of our eagle owl swooping impressively over the tables, my stomach flutter with dread. When I saw the childish scrawl on the sealed note, I smiled in relief. I have pasted the letter here, because it made me so happy.

Deer Bella,

I miss you. So duz Andromida. Muther and Fother told me I was being a brat. I wuz only being bad beekuz I wuz bord. Muther's hed is herting her too much for her to practiss letters with me, so I am dueing thiss. Bernee all moste dide yesterday. He climed into the uvin. I miss you.

From,

Cissy

Remember to: Teach Cissy how to spell. Also, I must write Andromeda and make sure someone practices with her.

1 October, 1962

Something is wrong with Rod...

Dolores: Is it true some of the fifth years are organizing a secret Halloween Ball?

Bellatrix: I don't know, and I don't appreciate you snatching my notes out of my hand.

Dolores: Oh... Sorry. It doesn't matter. I mean, it's not like I don't know what's in here. It would be so much fun if there were a ball, though. Don't you agree?

Bellatrix: I've been to balls. They really aren't that much fun.

Dolores: I know, but the ball you attended this summer sounded so pretty! Do you think Rodolphus will dance with you?

Bellatrix: I hope not. He really is an awful dancer!

Dolores: Do you think Bishop will dance with me?

Bellatrix: I have no idea. Please, Dolores! I'd like my book back.

Dolores: I think I'll ask him.

Bellatrix: You don't even know if there is a ball. Who told you, anyway?

Dolores: I was eavesdropping, of course.

Later, early evening

Today, I met Bishop's sister. We were on break, watching other students as they milled around the courtyard, standing close together to keep the cold off of us.

Bishop saw her first, and pointed, indicating that I should look. My first impression of her was a whirlwind of flirting. She was laughing on the arm of one boy, while smiling at another when her head was tilted away from the first. She watched a third boy from beneath her long, dark lashes. Noticing our eyes on her, she sashayed over.

"Dan!" She exclaimed, draping her arm over her brother's shoulders and leaning in, "How's Hogwarts, Dannykins?"

"Don't call me that." Bishop demanded frostily. "And anyway, I think I'm doing better than you, Ellie."

"I won't call you Dannykins if you don't call me Ellie." She promised in a low voice, all flirtation gone. She was pouting now, like a child.

"It's a deal." Bishop agreed, and his sister returned to looking at boys.

Then, between examining a Gryffindor boy and Rabastan Lestrange, she examined Dolores and I. Her nose wrinkled slightly at Dolores, but her expression softened somewhat when she saw me.

"God, Danior. Are those the best girls you could scare up? When the the dark-haired one fills out, she could pass..."

"I didn't scare them up, Ellodie. They're friends."

"Sweetie! You don't have girlfriends you don't intend to make lovers. That's just not how it's done."

Bishop blushed, turning away from us to disguise it. Then, turning back, he gave introductions: "Ellodie, these are Bellatrix Black and Dolores Umbridge. You two, that's Ellodie Bishop, my sister."

"Oh. I'd say it's nice to meet you, but it isn't. Oh Danior honey, are you coming to that thing tomorrow night?" She said quietly, ignoring us and turning to fully face her brother.

"No. Any "thing" you're having is bound to be awful."

"You hurt me!" She exclaimed, clutching at her heart. "It won't be awful! It will be enlightening! Robert's getting firewhiskey from Hogsmeade, and Delbert Sutter says he knows a place in the Forbidden Forest that would be perfect for a bonfire. Oh Dan, it'd be simply criminal if you didn't go!" Then she whispered something only he could hear.

"I'll think about it." Bishop decided as the bell rang.

"Oh, and bring a girl with you, Dan. It'll make you look better. A real girl, not one of those."

For the rest of the day, Dolores was practically on top of Bishop: carrying things for him, holding doors for him, warning him at every trick step. After a few hours of this, I could tell Bishop was annoyed, and he seemed relieved when she went off to the library to study alone.

"I'm not taking her." Bishop confided quietly in the Slytherin common room.

"I don't want to go if that's what you're saying." I said curtly.

He laughed wryly. "I don't want to go either. My brother has some powerful friends, though. They say his best friend, Argeaux is working for a recognized Dark Wizard by the Ministry. The only thing that keeps him out of Azkaban is Dumbledore. If Robert wants me there, I have to go. Besides, he was acting strange all summer, practically hoarding our mother's new vanity mirror..."

"Do I have to be something to make you look better? Like some kind of jewelry?" I asked, immediately regretting my question. His eyes were full of disappointment and a little hurt.

"No. You don't. I just thought, you know, that since I've been thinking of you as friend for the past month, you could do me a favor and come with me to see my brother's scary friends. And you would be a lot more than jewelry to me, Bellatrix."

With that, he gathered his books and stormed out. Now here I am.

Why did I say that? Bishop is by far the most worthwhile person I've met here, and I've gone and made him angry. I suppose my father treats my mother like a thing, so I was worried. It's early, but I'm going to bed.

2 October, 1962

Dolores seems awfully happy today. She wouldn't stop dancing around the dormitory this morning, and when Mary Schultz made a feeble attempt at a hex, Dolores only smiled instead of exploding in anger. She and Bishop are always together, laughing, smiling, and talking excitedly. I knew exactly what had happened: Bishop had asked her to the "thing" tonight.

I'm not jealous. I'm not angry. I'm surely not disappointed that I'm not going to a school party.

But I am. I am jealous of Dolores for being chosen over me, even though I know Bishop hates her. I am angry at Bishop for not crawling back and automatically forgiving me as he should, because it was his fault he exploded at me. I'm very disappointed that I won't get to go to an exclusive party.

If Dolores does not stop giggling, I think I will Jelly-Leg Jinx her! Her giggling is high-pitched and loud. She's almost drooling over Bishop.

Later, Early hours of the morning

"Wait!" Rodolphus Lestrange shouted to me as I walked to the greenhouses for Herbology. I stopped, and he caught up with me.

"Hello, Rodolphus." I greeted.

"Hello, Bellatrix. There's going to be a party tonight, and, er, I was wondering if you'd go with me."

"Party?" I asked, pretending cluelessness.

"Oh... Well, your friend Bishop invited me. If you don't want to go, we don't have to."

"All right." I decided.

"meet me in the entrance hall one hour after dinner. I've been told to follow Bishop."

I was much happier after that. I was made even more so when Mary Schultz was scolded for being late.

That evening in the dormitory, after dinner was done, I brushed my hair until it shone. I twisted it up into a knot on top of my head and changed my robes. It didn't hurt to look nice, I thought.

"Oh, Bellatrix!" Dolores simpered, "I'm so glad you were invited."

"Yes." I replied, "I'm sure it will be lots of fun."

Rodolphus, Bishop, and two more boys were waiting for us. The oldest of the boys led us out the front doors and we sprinted to the forest. I ran with fear, hoping that Hagrid, the enormous gamekeeper, wouldn't see us and chase after us. We went more slowly in the forest until we came on a medium-sized circular clearing. A bonfire was lit in the center.

We seemed to be the last arrivals, because Ellodie Bishop fluttered over us in relief. She pressed butterbeers into our hands. We sat around for a while, some of the assembled students drinking firewhiskey. I didn't join them, and neither did Rodolphus. The atmosphere seemed tense. I had expected it to be festive with music to go along with the alcohol. Instead, it was like we were waiting for someone else to come.

After a while, the older boy who resembled Bishop stood, shoving his bottle at Rodolphus, who set it in the grass.

"Girls," He addressed, "Come this way. You will be the first to see our God."

Someone pushed me forward, and I found myself standing in a group of eight or nine girls, Dolores and Ellodie among them. I saw fear in their eyes, and knew I probably showed the same emotion. But it was frightening! We didn't know what ! Bishop look-alike was talking about, and the look on his face was that of a madman.

At a sign from Robert Bishop, a dark-skinned boy left the fireside, and returned a moment later with a large cloth wrapped thing. He propped it against a tree.

"Who will give blood to our God?" The dark-skinned boy asked, holding up a curved knife.

"Rob!" Bishop shouted suddenly. "I thought you were done with this!"

"I will never be finished with our god, brother. Delbert, silence him."

Another older boy put a hand over Bishop's mouth. Robert took a girl's wrist and his friend cut into it with his silver blade. The cloth was taken away to reveal a mirror. The girl was forced to press her wrist to the side, and the mirror glowed briefly before Robert turned it away.

"Our Lord, Our God, will speak to us tonight." Robert announced gleefully.

"Bellatrix, we need to go. Now." Rodolphus had shoved his way through the crowd and taken me by the arm.

"No!" The dark-skinned boy shouted, "No one is going anywhere. Rodolphus, sit." With a flick of the boy's wand, all the girls, including me, were bound.

"Our Lord wishes to see his selection. Make sure they are on their best behavior, Argeaux." Robert said, making the dark-skinned boy, Argeaux laugh cruelly. Flicking his wand, he raised us, still bound, and Robert turned the mirror. The pale face of Lord Voldemort looked out of it.

Some of the girls screamed: his twisted, obviously once handsome features were unsettling. I did not scream. I stared defiantly into his red eyes; this was his group after all that had me tied up and floating above their heads.

Then, the glass misted over, and words began to appear: "You have done well. One of these will do very nicely. Show them one at a time."

So Argeaux moved us forward in a line so that Voldemort could see each of our faces in detail.

When I was presented to the mirror, Lord Voldemort breathed on the glass. "Bellatrix Black?" He wrote. I nodded. He smiled, and as in the cave, his eyes didn't seem so red anymore.

Argeaux pushed us back into the air again, and Voldemort wrote: "Bellatrix Black will steal what I require. Now go. You are not alone."

Robert whirled around, Argeaux covering the mirror with the cloth. Hagrid and the caretaker, Mr. Filch stood behind us. Another older boy produced broomsticks from his bag, and Argeaux and Robert mounted them quickly, holding the mirror between them. They flew off and others made a run for it, covering their faces so as not to be recognized.

"Bellatrix!" Rodolphus shouted.

He grabbed my hand, and we started running. He ran much faster than I could, so the effect was that I was nearly being dragged across the ground. I screamed at the sound of pursuing footsteps. Then someone grabbed my other hand, and Rodolphus slowed down a little. Branches still tore at my long hair, and I heard noises in the dark forest. Had it been this dark last time? I asked myself this question and feared that we were lost.

Then, the trees began to thin, and I saw the glittering lights of the castle.

"We're going to get caught!" Dolores panted, clinging to Bishop's hand.

"WHY'D you take us here?" Someone in our chain shouted at Rodolphus.

"Where else was I supposed to take you?" Rodolphus retorted.

Then, with a crashing of branches, Hagrid ran up, carrying Filch.

"Detention!" He wheezed when the giant put him down.

3 October, 1962

This morning, Professor Slughorn delivered the same note to Bishop, Dolores, Rodolphus and I. It was very short: "Detention Saturday night in the trophy room."

Dolores looked at me in anger. "It's your fault!" She exclaimed shrilly. "It's your fault and now we've got detention!"

"It's not her fault." Bishop snapped. "It's mine. I never should have gone and I certainly shouldn't have taken you with me." He sneered at Dolores's hurt expression.

"It's my fault." Said Rodolphus sheepishly. "I never should have ran to the stle."

"Stop assigning blame." I snapped. "It doesn't really matter whose fault it is. All that matters is that we have detention and we have it in the trophy room."

4 October, 1962

This has probably been the worst Friday I have ever had here. None of my classes went well, Rodolphus followed us around like a lost puppy, and Dolores wouldn't stop crying.

"Little Bella Black got detention!" Mary Schultz shrieked with glee, snatching my note from it's hiding place in my Defense Agar The Dark Arts book.

"Be quiet, Mary." I said imperiously. "And don't call me Bella."

"Oh so high and mighty Bella Black got herself into trouble. I wonder what for, eh?"

"Wonder all you want, but I'd never tell you." I retorted.

Then, Mary fluttered her eyelashes and asked in a nicer voice: "Do you think it's amusing, Bishop, that Bella Black got into trouble? What do you think she did?"

"No, it's not amusing." He replied. "I have it too."

"Oh." Mary's face turned as red as an apple. I sumpose this exchange brightened my day, now that I think of it. It was nice to see Mary put in her place by Bishop, whom she obviously likes.

5 October, 1962

Today, the older students took a trip to Hogsmeade. The castle was a lot quieter without them, which gave me a peaceful day of doing homework and dreading the upcoming detention. Dolores had told me, that Rabastan Lestrange told her that Filch hung students from the ceiling by their ankles or e made them pickle white, dead, eel's eyes all night.

"And why should you believe him?" I asked her.

"Because he's so evil!" She exclaimed, moving closer to me.

"Dolores," I began to lecture, sounding remarkably like Father I thought, "he's just a grumpy old Squib who just needs to retire."

"How do you know?"

"Because my grandfather is the same way. But he isn't a Squib."

Bishop, Rodophus, Dolores and I walked up to the trophy room together. When we arrived, we saw that there were three others waiting there. Robert Bishop, Argeaux, and a girl I didn't know stood, whispering together excitedly.

"Right," Filch began as he strode in, "you lot will be polishing these until they shine. And you'll be doing so in silence."

Robert, Argeaux and the girl didn't work very hard. They smudged the dust around a bit then moved on. We gave it our best, but Filch still found reason to complain. "That spot still has rust." or "You fingerprinted that one!" After a while, Filch drifted into an uneasy sleep, and Robert dropped his cloth all together.

"I have seen our God in the flesh." Robert Bishop whispered dramatically.

"He's your God!" his brother whispered back furiously, "Not mine."

"He should be," Argeaux rumbled, his deep voice surprisingly soft. "He chose your girlfriend to do His bidding, and he's got power you can only dream of."

"I'm not doing anyone's bidding." I retorted.

"You don't have a choice." Whispered the girl.

"Be quiet, Galatea." Robert commanded. "Women should be seen, not heard."

Galatea glared like she wanted to say more, but stayed quiet.

Robert pulled a package from his bag, which he'd set near Filch. He gave it to me.

"Open it later." He commanded. "I'll kill Filch, I really will! Giving Our Lord's most worthy servant detention! The nerve!"

"Open it now!" Galatea protested about the package.

"Be quiet." Argeaux added.

"I don't want your package." I hissed.

"You'll take it anyway." Whispered Robert. He forced it into my hand. I dropped the parcel to the floor.

"She doesn't want it!" Bishop whispered at his brother. "We aren't all knowledge crazed like you, you, you know."

"Quiet!" Filch barked waking up. Someone kicked the package out of sight, and we got back to it.

We polished those trophies and plaques until midnight. By the time He was satisfied, ! trophies were so shiny, I could have seen my reflection in them. My fingers were stiff, and I was exhausted.

"May I go with you?" Galatea asked.

"Yes." Rodolphus answered her.

Galatea took the package reverently, holding it posessively against her chest.

"I'm Galatea Macnair." She introduced.

Dolores made our introductions between huge yawns.

I opened the package when Dolores drifted off to sleep. I found this note on top of a plain wooden box.

Here, Bellatrix, is a little gift, given with gratitude that you didn't kill me. I know that you will not obey me. It is not in your nature. Because of this, I have asked Galatea to do as you will not in secret. You intrigue me, Bellatrix Black. I hope y w contact me soon, so that I may teach y. You will do great things, I know.

The note was unsigned. I read it over several times before pasting it here, then several more after I did.

I opened the box to find a mirror. It was the size of a small plate, made of shining silver. Around the frame, three serpents were intwined, their necks crossed at the top, tiny emeralds glittering for their eyes. On the back I found two symbols: the first a serpent emerging from the mouth of a skull; the other a B and V surrounded by the knotted coils of yet another snake.

Now I am angry. What if the second symbol means I belong to him? What if my father has joined him, and given me as some kind of initiation price? What if I use ! mirror, and Voldemort wants me in his aw;l gr|p8 And what, I wonder, would happen if ,i used ! mirror to try and learn about Lord Voldemort.

Author's Note: Hello, everyone. I'm back. Due to lots and lots of writer's block, I was a bit late, for which I apologize. Right, so let me know what you think. Also, for anyone interested, I have written a short little thing about Draco Malfoy seeking therapy after the war.

Best Wishes,

Elizabeth de Britannia)

Author's Note Post-Script: (Al, I am curios. What are your thoughts on the letters pasted into the story? I enjoy writing them, myself, but wish to do a survey.)


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